Will no one
come to say she is better?" And so the night wore on.
As morning broke, Phronsie opened her eyes, and gave a weak little cry.
Polly sprang from her knees at the foot of the bed, and staggered toward
the child.
"Don't!" cried Jasper, with a hand on her arm.
"Let her alone," said Dr. Fisher quickly.
"Oh, Polly!" Phronsie raised herself convulsively on the bed. "You did
come--you did!" winding her little arms around Polly's neck. "Has the
mouse gone?"
"Yes, yes," said Polly as convulsively; "he's all gone, Phronsie, and I
have you fast; just see. And I'll never let you go again."
"Never?" cried Phronsie, straining to get up further into Polly's arms.
"No dear; I'll hold you close just as long as you need me."
"And he won't come again?"
"He can't Phronsie; because, you see, I have you now."
"And the door will open, and I'll have Mamsie and dear Grandpapa?"
"Yes, yes, my precious one," began Mr. King, getting out of the large
arm-chair into which they had persuaded him.
"Don't do it. Stay where you are," said Dr. Fisher, stopping him half-
way across the room.
"But Phronsie wants me; she said so," exclaimed old Mr. King hoarsely,
and trying to push his way past the doctor.
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